


A Cozy Bedtime

by notenoughtogivebread



Series: Klaine Advent 2016 [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Christmas, Daddies!Klaine, Family, Foreplay, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15629709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughtogivebread/pseuds/notenoughtogivebread
Summary: Blaine still loves his childhood bed. A little bit of fluff set in a Christmas visit to the Andersons in Ohio. Written for Klaine Advent 2016 prompt Bed.





	A Cozy Bedtime

His mama hadn’t changed the comforter even after all this time—or maybe she just brought it out for their visits. It was still that same calming windowpane tan and rust bedspread that had seen so much of his teenage years. There was a lot that was the same in this room: his old gymkhana and fencing trophies, the parts of his Uncle Tim’s camera collection that hadn’t been smuggled into their New York apartment and then into their house, the vintage polo paintings. He couldn’t say quite why that was such a comfort to him, that this room hadn’t changed since middle school, that he could sit up against the padded headboard on his bed and see the same dresser next to the same hat stand. But it was true; he LOVED this room. 

Maybe it was the memories—of quiet nights when he’d put away his homework and slip between crisp sheets, falling asleep to the ticking of the big clock and to the soft shuffle of his dad turning pages as he read late into the night in his study across the hall. Or of long Saturday afternoons spent alone, just him and his books and his hobbies, his respite from a week spent at Dalton, always ON for his classmates. Or maybe it was the memories that had overlaid all of them—memories of, well, Kurt—Kurt and music, and the drama and excitement, both good and bad, he’d brought into Blaine’s ordered life. He smiled at the thought of little sex-kitten Kurt, spread across this very comforter, trying tentatively to bring up moving their makeout sessions into more mature territory. 

He looked over at the subject of that memory, his husband, stretched out next to him, engrossed in his Christmas present from Tom Anderson, a mystery set among Milan’s fashion houses. He was dressed in Blaine’s favorite pajamas from this year’s Hummelbrag collection,* crisp navy cotton pants and a soft gray top, the whole ensemble subtly complementing his eyes. And the men weren’t alone; nestled against Blaine where he sat cross-legged on the bed was their 4-year-old daughter Mary Grace. They were trying to recite little nursery rhymes from memory as he worked the detangler through her wild wet curls. 

“Let’s do _Itsy-bitsy Spider_ next.” 

“Don’t forget to raise your hand if it hurts.” 

“I won’t. But you’re doing a good job, Papa.” 

Kurt reached out and squeezed MG’s foot. “He’s not the only one,” he said as he closed his book, removed his reading glasses, and turned on his side to face his family. Blaine hummed along as Kurt joined in on the song, his lovely voice drawing grace notes around their little girl’s piping tones. 

“There, all done,” Blaine exclaimed, squeezing the last bits of water from her curls with the towel tucked around her neck. “Do you want me to braid it for bedtime?” 

“No. Lola says she has a wrap for it. I go ask her?” 

Blaine was just helping her down the side of the bed when his mama came to the door with a tray holding Christmas hot chocolate and servings of her leche flan. 

“Lola! Is that for ME?” 

Tom Anderson loomed behind his wife with a tray of his own. “Got yours here, Mary Grace. AND some books from your pile by the tree. How about you and I look through them before bed?” 

“Can we read from your BIG book, Grand?” she asked, running toward the door. Then she stopped and turned back to the bed. “Oh! I have to kiss Dad and Papa goodnight first!” 

“Good thinking,” Tom commented. “We can read from my book, and from—” He glanced through the titles under his arm. _“The Paper Bag Princess and Lyle Lyle Crocodile.”_

__“And then brush your teeth before sleep, right?” Kurt reminded as the little girl reached her chubby arms around his neck for a kiss. “Extra treats mean extra care.”_ _

__Blaine stopped his mama on the way out the door. “Mary Grace said you had a head wrap? And—”_ _

__“Just relax, son. Your dad and I have done this before. You two might as well enjoy your last quiet Christmas. You’re going to have FUN next year with new twins. You should take your rest where you can get it.” She winked broadly at them, then slipped out the door, closing it firmly behind her._ _

* * *

__  
_ _

They could just hear through the door the soft rumble of Tom’s voice. Blaine crawled back into bed and relaxed against the headboard. Kurt turned to clink his hot chocolate mug. “Merry Christmas, baby.” 

“You look good enough to eat,” Blaine sighed, stealing a chocolatey kiss. 

“Not as good as this flan, though,” Kurt said, holding out a forkful to his husband. 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Blaine said, leaning across Kurt’s body to place his mug on the night table and trailing his warm hand down Kurt’s belly, playing with the ties on his sleep pants. 

“No, no, really. Have a bite.” 

“It IS my mom’s recipe,” Blaine noted, but lifted his head and allowed Kurt to feed him like a baby bird, then rested his head on Kurt’s chest. Kurt happily scraped away at the treat. Blaine fell quiet, listening to his husband’s sounds of pleasure and the heartbeat right under his ear. Gracie’s sleepy voice came across the hall. He breathed in Kurt, his hand just cradling his husband through his sleep pants. He drifted, returning to his memories. 

Kurt finished the flan and laid the plate to the side. He sighed in contentment. “You’ve been quiet,” he murmured, running his fingers through Blaine’s dark curls, loosened from the shower. 

“I was—reminiscing—about this room. This bed. There’s just so many memories in a childhood room, right?” 

“Good ones, I hope?” 

“A mix. You know, like life.” He squeezed Kurt’s forearm with his free hand. 

“Like life.” 

“And I’ve been thinking about all of OUR memories in this bed.” 

Kurt arched his back, pushing into Blaine’s hand. “I was getting that.” 

Blaine laughed and nuzzled under Kurt’s chin. “Remember the time we had to dig out the eyewash?” 

“Oh, my God. Or that time your mom came back because she had forgotten her samples, and I was half-out of my pants, and fell headlong across the floor?” Kurt’s stomach jumped with his laughter. 

“Discovering each other’s bodies in this bed—I’m not sure I’d trade my Mom’s MaryKay afternoons for ANYTHING,” Blaine crooned, swinging his leg over to straddle his husband’s thigh. “I learned so much. Do you want me to show you?” 

Kurt pulled him back down into a deep kiss. “That depends. Are you still wearing that red thong I found in your bow tie drawer?” 

Blaine collapsed laughing, rolling off to the side as he kicked off his candy cane sleep shorts. “Sue Sylvester, doing wonders for our sex life again!” 

Kurt sighed at the sight of his husband’s perky ass in the tiny scrap of cloth. “I hate to be beholden AGAIN to that woman, but I’m willing to make an exception.” 

Blaine practically purred in contentment. Change was good, sometimes, and like Mama said, it was surely headed their way. But the tried and true worked for him, too: This room, its décor firmly lodged in Dad’s mid-20th century ideals; his Mama’s Filipino treats; and Kurt, beautiful, sharp-tongued, loving Kurt, the great love of his life, who was currently driving him wild with his lovely hands and that wicked tongue. It was more than okay to hold onto them.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: * A thank you to whoever came up with the idea of Hummelbrag Designs. It’s perfect. My Kurt is a successful Broadway actor and producer who took his dad's advice and creates a lot of the roles he plays. But he has never fallen out of love with design, and so, with success, he started investing time and money in a little clothing/accessories line. Isabelle Wright helps!


End file.
